The Conservative's Guide to Becoming the GOP Nominee

The Requirement
Let me begin by clarifying something: if you are not a gentleman, you are not qualified to be the president of our glorious nation. And when I use the term “gentleman,” I refer not to an elite class of men defined by honor and chivalry, I mean that women will just have to set their sights a bit lower. To put it delicately, sometimes the Constitution remarks to the Magna Carta, “I got ninety-nine problems, but a bitch ain’t one.” 

If you are a woman, don’t despair, you can certainly marry a president—or at the very least, have a torrid affair with one (For further reading, see the upcoming “The Conservative’s Guide to St. Valentine’s Day”).

Thy Name
The author is a firm believer in the idea that if ol’ Mittens Romney were ‘John Romney’ or ‘Richard Romney,’ he’d be running away with the nomination like it was a fixed election in a South American country.

As such, be aware that your middle name or a folksily familiar diminutive of your Christian name may be a crucial element of your success. Do not attempt to legally change your name: somebody from your Quaint Midwestern Town of Modest Means, from your New England yacht club, or from your Texas 4H Club will remember you and ruin you. So, if your name’s something like “Cody Hagedorn,” you’re just out of luck, I guess. Better luck next time.

Presidential Marriages
“Marriage of convenience” is an ugly term. When you are arranging your marriage of convenience, look to Laura Bush. She is the standard by which all other presidential wives are measured. People love her.

Unfortunately, unlike the olden days, potential brides do not descend down a flight of stairs singing “Honor to Us All,” and auctioning themselves to the highest bidder. Nevertheless, you must imagine yourself as a veritable Rehnquist of beauty when choosing your wife—it’s a life or death Monty Hall game.

Let’s put it out there: your wife should be attractive, but not too attractive.

Aim for a classy, yet relatively bland sense of pretty—what my mother would term a “handsome woman.” She needs to have the ability to pull off an Oscar de la Renta, while being gracious, graceful, and quiet. No woman should ever detract from your glory. You never want to hear “President John Richards’s speech tonight was good, but my, his wife’s remarks were simply more insightful and charming.”

With a hot lady, you run the risk of other women developing a principled distaste for her—and by proxy, you—“I like that John Richards, but that loose hussy he’s married to might sully the White House with her overzealously black eyelined eyes” is, again, not something you want to hear.

Family Planning
Take a good hard look at your children. Are they winsome? If so, they are a campaign asset and should be paraded around like the Jolie-Pitt clan (sans the humanitarian liberalism) or the Von Trapp family band. Edelweiss, indeed!

Alas, you may have one child not like the rest, one who fails to be a blond, strong-jawed purveyor of conservative thinking and all-American good looks. This is referred to as Homely Child Syndrome. Boarding school should be considered as a viable option here. This develops a lovely Anastasia-like element—the homely child could be wonderfully charming and graceful and the press would never know otherwise—while you can campaign in worry-free bliss.

Policy Recommendations
Select a social issue and play that thing like Rock Band. In fact, pretend the social issue is a band and create different personas for the varying facets of your stance on it.

Abortion, drug abuse, gay marriage, euthanasia, Tila Tequila, stem cell research—whatever, somewhere there is a home school advocate who will organize an army of…er…unique children to chant your name and hand out campaign stickers.

Critically, you must remember to select the issue that most closely relates to the sordid past of a near relative. For instance, the gay son you forget you have, or your youngest brother’s frequent Colombian ski trips—mere youthful indiscretions of a thirty-two year old. Everyone knows you need a little self-righteous scandal to truly be an effective leader. If you forget this step, you’re just not taking this very seriously.

Because social issues have such astoundingly disproportionate prominence on the political landscape, don’t worry too much about the rest. Just repeat these words: lower taxes, change, national security, secure our borders, change, Hillary Clinton is a dirty whore, lower taxes national security, secure our borders, change, Obama did cocaine, lower taxes, and so forth.

The Brokered Convention
Sometimes, George W. Bush happens. He’s performed so wonderfully in office that candidates are simply clamoring to get in the White House next and attempt, by the grace of God, to merely strive to touch his unending legacy. When this occurs, however, something magical can occur: a brokered convention.

Think back to the five families scene in the Godfather and let that simmer for a bit.

Meanwhile, let’s talk about Rutherford B. Hayes. Although his name may sound like that of the lead guitarist of an exceptionally pretentious indie rock band, he was actually president of this stupendous country. You may have seen him (…pictures of him, anyway)—he had what can only be called an epic beard.

How did someone with such a ridiculous name become president of this grand land? We call it the brokered election.

In 1876, Rutherford was the Ye Grande Olde Partaye’s nominee, and by all accounts, his beard lost by over 250,000 popular votes to Samuel Tilden. A series of uncomfortably racist compromises were made between the two parties, and thus, Rutherford B. Hayes became president! American politics are fun like this.

A brokered convention could happen to you. You must be prepared to place whatever it is you have on the table—your state’s delegates, whispered promises to the American auto industry, a child, farm subsidies, Hannah Montana tickets, conflicting vows to employers and unions about outsourcing, your dignity. Now’s not the time to get coquettish, you’re nearly there and anything can be sacrificed for the ultimate goal.

Back to the Corleone family. These fictional characters knew the value of an impeccably tailored suit, cigars, and the kind of threatening vocal intonation that gets things accomplished in situations like these. A true conservative takes this to heart; bring a consigliere, check a few automatic weapons at the door, and you’re well on your way to being the nominee.